Breathing In Pairs
by rozethorngirl
Summary: Noah Puckerman has been dead for over a hundred years, trying to reach out. When Kurt's family moves into the once famed Puckerman manor, will Noah get all he's been looking for? Including someone to help him find out what happened to him? (Rating Will Go UP) (Ghost!Puck)
1. Chapter 1

Title: Breathing In Pairs  
Rating: T/PG-13 (WILL go up)  
Genre: Slash, Supernatural/Romance/Drama/Mystery  
Summary: Noah Puckerman has been dead for over a hundred years, trying to reach out. When Kurt's family moves into the once famed Puckerman manor, will Noah get all he's been looking for? Including someone to help him find out what happened to him?  
Pairing: Puck/Kurt, Kurt/Blaine, Finn/Rachel, Burt/Carol, Santana/Brittany, and Tina/Mike mentions past Puck/Karofsky  
Words: 1,013  
Warnings: Main Character Being Dead, Mentions Implied Rape, Murder,  
Disclaimer:  
A/N: Ghost!Puck. Should be interesting. Reviews are love!

Prologue

Take a breath. Nice and slow.

Savor the air going into your lungs through your nose, and the carbon dioxide coming out from your mouth.

This breath, this thing you do hundreds of thousands of times a day, is proof you are alive. Proof that you have oxygen flowing into you blood, and from your blood into your brain. And your brain is sending millions of signals to the rest of your body's nervous system and other parts, telling it to do it again.

This proof, this act of breathing that you take for granted so easily…

It's beautiful.

Beautiful to feel the rush in and out like waves of an ocean.

And beautiful to see happen for the first time when a child is born, and their tiny chests rise and fall welcoming in the gorgeous air around them to wail and scream.

Breath is life and it is beautiful.

Because there will come a day when you take your last breath; and unlike what they sensationalize on television and in movies, it is not your life that you are thinking about as you die. It's about struggling to get to the next breath. To stay awake. To not fall to the blackness.

And yet we do, because we must. There must be a balance or the world descends into utter chaos.

A chaos never ceasing.

You must be wondering I would know this, why I am so obsessed with the simple act of breathing. The answer is simple: I don't breathe anymore, I am dead.

I have been for more than a hundred years; walking about this manor, watching the families come and go. It's so funny watching how they grow and change and leave. I try and try to reach out to them, to touch them but all it does make them leave me faster. And just when I think I might start to be getting to a place where I think they could be receptive of me, maybe even ready to see me, but apparently I scare them.

I don't mean to. I guess having been a ghost or whatever I am right now has made me forget how easily spooked humans get. I'm just tired of being alone.

That's definitely the one thing you aren't prepared for in life before you die; the loneliness of death. Forever on the outside, never to feel again.

My name is Noah Puckerman, and I'm a seventeen year old ghost.

I died here in Lima, Ohio at my family's old manor. How, I don't know exactly.

I remember the struggle to breathe, to stay awake. I remember my seventeenth birthday party and my friend David Karofsky leading me away from my family's dining hall, but I don't remember much else. Just waking up lengthwise across my bed, and everything being so much greyer than I knew it to be.

And when I found Sarah, my younger sister, she was sitting alone on the front steps of our manor staring at the towering gates as if waiting for something with dread. I tried to get her to talk to me, but she wouldn't. Soon I realized nobody was talking to me, nor were they even looking at me. Like they were cross with me, but I couldn't remember anything wrong I had done.

And the next thing I knew a black car came through those gates that my darling sister had been forlornly gazing at, and she and my parents got in it and left. Leaving me and our staff behind. But soon even the staff left this place as Puckerman Manor was placed up for sale, and all of our things moved out.

And no matter how hard I tried, or how much I begged, I didn't leave with it. I stayed. And I have stayed for one hundred and thirteen years.

Never aging.

Never changing.

Just here, stuck to watch from the outside.

Almost like an unofficial guardian of my family's place. Except it's a job I never wanted. I never had any dream of being here or in my family's fortune forever. I wanted to travel on my own through Europe. I wanted to be more than the investment banker my father wanted me to be, he never agreed with my…predilections.

But that's a different part of my story.

Nowadays, this place looks nothing like it used to back in 1901. Gone are the perfectly polished marble floors, and freshly varnished hand carved wooden banisters. Gone are the Persian rugs and silk draperies, and any and all sparkle or shine to the crystal chandelier in the foyer. Gone is the well kempt bushes that sometimes were trimmed into shapes, and perfectly watered and fed roses my mother loved so much.

Gone. It's all gone.

I don't really mind though, because I was never impressed by the pomp and splendor my parents and sister were. I was an artist and spent most of my days in the gardens drawing still life scenes. My favorite thing was the feel of the scratch of charcoal across drawing paper and creating life for everyone to see.

And that's now one of my biggest laments. That I'm not able to hold pencils and paper and sketch the people that come in and out of here, because as the years go by it gets harder and harder to remember everyone. And I don't want to forget.

It may seem foolish for a ghost to get attached to people who not only can't see him, but also fear him; yet it's all I have in this pathetic nonexistence. Attachments to real live people who might as well be ghosts to me. Passing in and out of my life, in and out of my manor. So close and so far away.

And as I watch a sweet, but totally self absorbed girl named Sugar leave with her father and mother still ranting about her purse collection and it being disorganized, and the "For Sale" sign go back up, my metaphorical heart sinks.

I'm doomed to forever be alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Breathing In Pairs  
Rating: T/PG-13 (WILL go up)  
Genre: Slash, Supernatural/Romance/Drama/Mystery  
Summary: Noah Puckerman has been dead for over a hundred years, trying to reach out. When Kurt's family moves into the once famed Puckerman manor, will Noah get all he's been looking for? Including someone to help him find out what happened to him?  
Pairing: Puck/Kurt, Kurt/Blaine, Finn/Rachel, Burt/Carol, Santana/Brittany, and Tina/Mike mentions past Puck/Curtis (Which is actually Kurt)  
Words: 1,993  
Warnings: Main Character Being Dead, Mentions Implied Rape, Murder  
Disclaimer: I don't anything but the plot.  
A/N: I made a mistake listing Karofsky beforehand as a pairing for Puck in the past. Not what I wrote in the actual story of Karofsky leading him away on Puck's 17th birthday, that was okay and meant to be written the way it was. This is going to be kind of a soulmate!fic. Kind of not. More like rebirth or whatever. I also spent some time actually looking up Lima, Ohio history for this. So yay me! lol But I hope you are enjoying this, because I sure am!

Chapter 1

"As you were told before, Puckerman Manor has a lot of history, being that it was built in 1854. Back when the cholera outbreak had just begun right outside of Allen County, and was a haven for many sick," the sales lady says as she leads the Hudson-Hummels up from the cars by the thirty-foot wrought iron gate towards the front steps.

Finn crossed his arms and leaned over to Kurt ask quietly, "Does that mean, like a lot of people died here? Gross."

The other boy smirks up at his younger stepbrother and follows after their parents and the lady.

"The Puckerman's were investment bankers that had put a great deal of time and fortune in the town of Lima. In fact, you could say that a lot of our city's early success was due to their knowledge of what to invest in. Without them, we wouldn't have taken the chance on the Agricultural Works company in 1869 which means we wouldn't have gotten our Shay-geared locomotive in 1882. Shame that Mordechai Puckerman's grandson Noah died in 1901, causing them to leave this beautiful place," she looks back at all of them to make sure they're still paying attention, and Burt and Carole were.

Finn was still wanting to ask about the dead people, Kurt could tell.

Kurt takes a good look around at the overgrown grass and brown, withered branches hanging over the thick concrete handrails that have large gargoyle's at the end of them. The house, or manor as it was being called, itself was towering even at only two levels; and made solidly of stone, resembling that of an old castle of sorts. You could tell without even going in the place yet that it was going to be dark and dusty. He wasn't sure "history" was the word he would use to describe what he was currently seeing.

"Set up for every horror movie ever," maybe.

"What happened? How did he die?" Finn asks.

The lady, for the first time seeming uncomfortable, looks away, "No one knows for sure why it happened. He was raped and strangled to death on the night of his seventeenth birthday. No one knows who did it, it's a cold case."

For the first time Kurt speaks up, feeling an irrational sense of sorrow for the boy, "That's terrible. No one should have that happen to them."

The lady nods, "He was apparently of a quiet sort as well. An artist. Would sit in the gardens for hours, sometimes long into the night and draw. Didn't have any enemies. So a very strange case for sure."

His dad clears his throat as there seems to be an awkward quiet that falls over them for a few seconds as they begin to climb the twenty-two limestone steps to the top, "How many rooms did you say this place had?"

"Fourteen bedrooms, thirteen and a half bathrooms – that through the century has been updated to modern. So it's all fully indoor plumbed and you have a hot water heater," she said this with a little wink and smile like that's some great accomplishment, which made Kurt resist the urge to roll his eyes until his stepbrother Finn muttered a "Sweet," under his breath.

Then Kurt actually did roll his eyes.

"The Manor also has a grand ballroom which can be used as a fine dining room, a very large kitchen, two basements, gardens, a six stall stable, sits on a total of three and half acres, and – " she turns around to face them once they reach the solid oak front door, as if she's about to tell them there's buried treasure or something too, "it is said there is secret passageways built into this place, but they only reveal themselves to those who need it most."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, "Right," he thought.

"Like if we're running from ghosts or something evil?" Finn asks, completely enthralled with the idea that their new house might be magic or filled with ghosts from all the death that had occurred here.

The countertenor stifles a laugh and shakes his head.

Burt scoffs and crosses his arms, "Well if there does happen to be any passageways not listed in any floor plans, I'll be sure new floor plans are drawn up to show them."

Carole, Kurt's stepmother, put a hand on Burt's arm, "Burt, honey, I'm sure it's just a story."

The saleswoman shrugs and brings out the front door key to lead them inside, "Eh, I didn't make it up. All the people who've lived here before you guys did. I'm just being sure to let you know all I know in an effort of full disclosure. Especially since you're a contractor and your end goal is to remodel and flip this place."

She pushes the doors open and leads Burt, Carole, and Finn inside beginning to rattle on about the chandelier hanging over main entry. Kurt was about to follow but something stopped him. A slight chill that went down his spine making him spin around and look to see what's behind him, but of course nothing was there.

Nothing except the same dead, ugly vines, overgrown gardens, and giant wrought iron gate that stood thirty feet high at the end of the driveway.

Shaking off his absurdity, Kurt marches forward in search of his family, deciding he already hated this place.

~K&P~

When your father is a contractor that flips homes in his spare time, one thing you get used to is moving.

Packing up and going to a new place, having to make new friends. Never really settling in because you know eventually the room you're staying in will be worked on, so there's really no point in putting pictures on the wall or posters up. You know, like a normal teenager. It also apparently messes with the home value or something like that.

Kurt blocked his dad out with that one, because how do you spell ridiculous?

And this manor was no different, except it was; because this time Kurt is seventeen, and by the time they're done renovating this place he'll be moving away to college.

To a different type of home, and it made him both excited and sad.

His phone rang as he was hanging up his more expensive outfits and smiled, seeing it was his boyfriend.

"It had to be you," Blaine sang into the earpiece. "It had to be you. I wandered around and finally found some kind of true."

Kurt chuckled, "Stop being such a cheese ball."

Blaine's huff was playful, "I'll have you know it took me all day to pick which Sinatra classic to sing to you tonight, and you go and ruin it."

Smiling and sorting through his sweaters on the bed, grouping them into the right colors, Kurt replied, "And here I thought it'd be something Katy Perry."

Blaine laughed outright. "I miss you. We all do. Why'd you have to go and move to Lima?"

Sighing, Kurt stopped his sorting and sat on his bed, staring at all the boxes. "My dad's a contractor, Blaine. And he and Carole flip houses for a living on the side, you know that. And the Puckerman Manor was a great opportunity…"

"Yes, but you could have stayed over here. Gone to Dalton with me. Do you really want to face the public school system again?"

Kurt snorted, knowing Blaine already knew the answer to that.

"And Dalton has more opportunities for college applications."

Kurt sighed getting a little frustrated, "Blaine, my family moved. Do you expect me to let them move without me? I mean all your points may be valid, and they're points that you have been saying since we bought this place, but they're all rooted in your want for me to stay with you."

Blaine's voice was quiet. "And is that such a bad thing?"

"No," Kurt huffed and rubbed his face, feeling tears come to his eyes. "I miss you too, but for that matter you could transfer to McKinley over here in Lima."

"No, I can't."

Kurt snorted again, knowing he was about to win this discussion. "And why's that?"

"Because my family lives here in Westerville and I could never go to public school again…oh."

"Yeah, oh. You're first reason is your family lives there in Westerville," Kurt smiled sadly as he pulled a leg up to his chest, "and that's okay. I understand that. I don't want you to move away from your family before college, if you're not ready."

"Because there's going to be college. New York. And we're going to be together?"

"Well, me first, then you," Kurt smiled genuinely now. "You're still only a Junior. But yes. Because we're going to be together in New York."

"Yeah," Blaine said on a shaky breath. He tried to find some humor by pointing out, "Hey, you're kind of a cougar, you know that?"

Kurt laughed and spent the rest of his time hanging his clothes and putting away his things while talking to his boyfriend. And if as he spent most of it doing what he's been doing for the last couple months, trying to pretend that this distance didn't matter between them and they were totally fine, well he tried not to let that bother him too much.

~K&P~

When the cars pull up and the people step out, at first I try and avoid them.

After Sugar and the Mottos I decided to stop trying to reach out to the humans and to stop getting attached to people, but then I saw him.

It was Curtis. My Curtis.

He'd come back for me, just like he always promised he would. It was in that moment that I felt as if my world wasn't quite as grey. Because Curtis, my lover, my love, my one who promised to take me on journeys far from here had finally come to fulfill his promise.

And just when I stopped believing.

So I followed them. Curtis looked exactly the same, except he had shorter hair and had people he was bringing with him.

A man named Burt? Who was apparently a contractor?

My mind raced trying to remember what that word meant. Like a homebuilder? Right? Had Curtis brought someone to the manor who was going to rebuild the manor back its former glory?

I followed them for awhile around the house, almost appearing out of sheer delight Curtis announced that he would be picking my room as his. It meant it really was him, because why else would he decide to be here in this very room with me all the time?

It was like finally after a hundred years of longing, I was getting everything I never did. Everything I never could.

And I made a promise to myself to always be on my best behavior for my love. Never give him any reason to leave me again. I won't spy on him when he's changing (at least never too much), or move his things. I'll just let him know I'm there by letting him feel my presence until he asks for me to come forward. And he would.

Because my Curtis was smart and he loved me. We were meant to be forever he always promised.

Why had I ever doubted him?

And I was so convinced that everything was wonderful that I barely noticed his cell phone ring.

Silly invention, cell phones. Telephones should be stationary, not mobile and cordless.

I didn't mean to eavesdrop, and really I wasn't, but it was hard to miss the "I love you, too, Blaine," as he disconnected the call.

Blaine? He loves a Blaine?

No. He can't. That's not – not possible.

If I could I would cry; but I'm a ghost. Ghosts can't cry. So instead I sit in a corner and watch my love sleep in silent misery, wondering when he too will leave me.


	3. I'm Out

p class="MsoNormal"strongDear readers,/strong/p 


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